Hope Always
by Ilada'Jefiv
Summary: A quick glimpse into the heart and mind of Altaïr after the end of the game. As Altaïr wonders what will become of the Assassin's Creed, Malik helps him see that there is always hope. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: **I own neither Altaïr nor anything else that has to do with _Assassins' Creed_. -sobs-

**Spoilers: **Yes! Do not read this unless you have completed the game.

**A/N: **This little story came to me one night, and I just had to write it down. It takes place just after the end of the game. I've just reposted it due to some changes that I had to make. I hope that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. – Ila

_**Escorregadia**_ and _**The Tiramisu Of Impending Doom**_, thanks so much for the reviews! I believe it erased them because of reposting it, but I still have them saved in gmail! g

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**Hope Always**

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Altaïr stood on the fortress wall, his dark eyes staring unseeingly before him. A cold wind caused his white cloak to whip around him, and he wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered. Dark clouds overshadowed the horizon, matching the gloom in his soul. The townsfolk continued their business below in an unusually subdued and quiet manner. They were now free from the mind bending influence of the treasure, but it was not an experience they would quickly forget.

Altaïr reached out and gripped the balustrade tightly, lowering his head as the memories of the last couple hours haunted him. He shuddered, remember with acute awareness the utter and complete helplessness he had felt when the golden power of the treasure had paralyzed him before his treacherous master, Al Mualim.

He sighed deeply, his heart aching at his master's blatant betrayal. Al Mualim had raised him from a boy, instructing him in the ways of the Creed, and teaching him how to become the expert assassin he was. He had given Altaïr a second chance after his failure at Solomon's Temple, setting aside the death penalty he deserved and instructing him to take nine lives in exchange for his own.

But never had he imagined that Al Mualim would be his tenth victim.

As he had worked his way down the list of targets, every single one had whispered words that had planted doubt in his mind as to the true ambitions of his master. The last templar, Robert de Sable, had told him the truth about his master's true plan: to take over the world using the mind controlling power of the treasure. At first, he had refused to believe the man's dying words, but when he had hurried back to the fortress, Al Mualim's greed and thirst for power were revealed. While his friend Malik, one of the only others in the town who had escaped the treasure's mind influence, had distracted the fortress guards, he had confronted his master. It had been a hard fought and an extremely confusing battle, but in the end, he had triumphed, ending his master's life.

Altaïr raised his left arm and flicked his wrist, extending the hidden blade from his arm guard. It was still darkened with the drying blood of Al Mualim, for he had not taken the time to clean it. He felt suddenly at loss, wondering what would become of the Assassins' Creed. Despite his wrong motives, Al Mualim had been a wise and just leader, and Altaïr knew of none that could fill his place.

With another sigh, he pulled a cloth from his belt and thoughtfully cleaned the sharp blade, feeling as if he was wiping the last traces of Al Mualim away. He felt no bitterness or anger towards his former master, that alone being a testament to the change he had undergone since the Temple incident, only sorrow and regret. It had been Al Mualim who had instructed him not to hate those he killed, for such feelings only clouded judgment and caused one to err. However, even though he followed his advice, he still felt lost and uncertain. He knew that he had done the right thing in ending Al Mualim's life, yet it was still hard for him to accept. He shook his head in frustration. He had taken countless lives and never felt this way before.

Light footsteps broke into his musings, and he turned and nodded a greeting to Malik. The other assassin walked swiftly towards him, the empty sleeve where his left arm had been standing out as another point against Altaïr's failure at the Temple. However, Malik had forgiven him, and the two had set aside the anger and animosity which had stood between them because of it.

"How are you?" Malik asked, stopping beside him and leaning against the balustrade.

Altaïr shrugged noncommittally and turned back to face the valley. "I don't know." He retracted the hidden blade and tucked the cleaning cloth back in his belt. "I just wonder what shall happen to the Creed now that Al Mualim is dead. Who shall lead us?"

Malik shifted and stole a glance at his companion's hooded face. "None would contest you if you stepped forward to lead. You saved them from a life of slaves, where even the luxury of choice was denied to them."

Altaïr barked out a harsh laugh. "It shocks me to hear those words from your mouth, Malik. You lost your arm and brother because of my recklessness and arrogance, and you ask me to lead the Creed? You know full well that I am no leader."

"As I said before, you are not the same man that rashly brought that grief upon us," Malik answered. "I believe you could wisely lead us."

Altaïr shook his head. "I was a fool –"

"But you are no longer," Malik countered. "Stop doubting yourself. You have learned much and will not fail again."

"I could not even see through the deception of our master," Altaïr murmured.

"None of us could," Malik replied, his voice softening. "Do not count that against yourself. You _can _lead us, Altaïr; I know you can."

Altaïr shook his head, wishing his friend could see. "I do not wish to lead. If anyone should, it is you. You have given much for our cause and handled the bureau in Jerusalem with great skill after your injury. You have the heart of a leader, Malik, whether you see it or not."

Malik bowed his head. "I do not fully understand your words,Altïar, but I will think on them. But let us set aside these dark thoughts and uncertain plans. The world has returned to the way it is supposed to be, and your blade has removed those who worked to obstruct our object of peace."

"But still there is fighting," Altaïr pointed out. "The crusades have not been stopped by our efforts. Hope fades in my heart for the world peace we desire."

"There will never be world peace," Malik relied. "To have such a thing is only possible by denying others the gift of choice. And, as we have seen here, denying others choice results in mindless shells that have no purpose in life. Who wants such a life? Not I! Do not think your efforts have come to nothing, however. The leaders of both armies surround themselves with guards and fearfully whisper your name, terrified that they may feel your blade biting their throats. I believe the crusades will soon taper off and the bloodbath end."

"I hope you are right," Altaïr said. "I hope so with all of my heart."

"Yes, brother!" Malik exclaimed, a smile chasing the grimness off his worn features. "Hope always." He pointed to the western sky. "Look – the sun pieces the clouds. Lay aside the dreariness which weighs down your spirit, and rejoice! No more are minds enslaved, and children laugh and play again in the streets." He laid a hand on Altaïr's shoulder. "Come. This should be a time of celebration. Our losses have caused our victory to be bitter-sweet, but it is a victory, nonetheless, for deception has been lifted."

Altaïr smiled slightly, feeling his spirit embrace the exuberance of his friend. "You are right as always, my friend. What's done is finished, and it will accomplish nothing to relive doubts and regrets."

Malik laughed. "Spoken truly, Altïar. I knew you would eventually admit that I am always correct."

Altaïr shoved him lightly, joining in his laughter, and they turned and left the walls of the fortress, new hope burning brightly in both their hearts.

And in the west, the sun flamed brightly, dispelling the clouds and shining its light onto the land, and all that felt its light were revived and their fears dispelled. It caused the rivers to sparkle, and the leaves on the trees to glow. The flowers lifted up their faces to the warmth, and the birds broke forth into song.

And high above the now peaceful valley, banners fluttered in the wind, the device displayed on them gleaming brilliantly: the symbol of the Assassins' Creed.

End –

**A/N: **I hope you all enjoyed it! I'm glad you took the time to read this and hope that you will leave me a review. Hearing what my readers think is a great encouragement to me, and I cherish every review I receive. Thank you all so much! –Ila


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